


This Tale Is All Sorrows And Woes

by lapsus_calami



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not me that's for sure, Other characters make appearances - Freeform, We All Know Who It Is, Who Knows?, actually i may have made it worse?, but i'm not tagging because they're just not that important, canonical levels of leonard/sara, don't think leonard or mick know in this one either, i don't even remember how i intended it when i started, is it gen?, is it slash?, spans entirety of season one, the title really says it all tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-04 08:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10272206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapsus_calami/pseuds/lapsus_calami
Summary: Leonard Snart would exit this world the same way he entered—quiet, defiant, and utterly insignificant.OrLeonard Snart has words in his mind. Things people have said to him over the course of his life that have stuck with him. He has a lot of words, but the most important ones come from Mick. Spoken at a club in 2013 they might be the most important thing anyone's ever said to him.





	

**This Tale Is All Sorrows And Woes**

There were few people alive—fewer now that he’d killed his father—that knew how Leonard Snart was born. In a dimly lit inner city hospital room with his mother bleeding out on the bed and his father working a double shift. Stillborn and dead by all accounts for the first two minutes of his existence.

The nurse who saved his life was named Shekia. She was thirty-three, unmarried and unattached, and had three kids of her own. She gave Leonard a small card with a puppy on the front when he was well enough to leave the hospital. His mother kept it pinned above his nightstand in his bedroom and told him the story at least once a week until the day she left.

She used to say he came into this world quiet and peaceful. That he must have known the horrors that lived in his life and tried to leave when he could. On the bad days towards the end she used to apologize. The first time he plucked up the courage to ask what for she’d cupped his little face said, “Oh, darling, I’m sorry she saved you.”

The words echoed in his mind throughout the years. After she left. The first time his dad hit him. The first time Lisa looked up at him with wide and trusting eyes. When Lisa went to the hospital for the first time. After his first arrest. And the second. The third.

When he met Mick. When Mick left him or when he left Mick. After they stole their first big score. When Mick saved his ass for the second, third, fourth time. The first time Leonard said they were finished and meant it.

He’d come into this world quiet and meaningless.

He’d be damned if he left the same way.

*

At a strip club in 2013 during one of their many, many off periods Mick Rory met him to say, “You’re the best guy I ever knew. You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me. You got that?”

The words alone were enough to throw him for the loop. As he said, he didn’t do touchy-feely and Mick generally wasn’t one for it either. The fact that they’d had yet another falling out less than three months ago made the whole situation even more surreal. Not to mention the way Mick stared at him like he was something precious, the way his mother used to on her good days, the way Mick looked at fire.

_Why are you looking at me like that?_

_Didn’t think you’d show._

It said a lot about him that Mick thought he wouldn’t show. Said a lot about what Mick thought of him. It also said a lot that he did show. Said a lot about what he thought and how much Mick meant to him.

_You left me a message, I came, what of it?_

_I’m…just wanna talk. You and I we’ve done a lot of thieving, a lot of cool stuff, a lot of fun._

That was the Mick Rory he knew. Fumbling with words and condensing nearly twenty years of partnership into terms like cool stuff and fun. Fun. That was one way to put it.

_You’re the best guy I ever knew. You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me. You got that?_

_Yeah, I got it._

And then Mick left. It was one of their shortest reunions to date to be sure, but it was also one of their most honest. So he watched Mick leave and he let him go. Because there was a part of him that was still reeling. Floundering to process what Mick had said, what he’d admitted out loud and without scorn.

It was a puzzle. One Leonard wouldn’t let go unsolved.

*

When he finally tracked down Mick in an even seedier bar it was five weeks later and the first thing Mick did was give him was a black eye for his trouble.

“Not exactly the welcome I was expecting,” he drawled picking himself up and prodding at his already tender eye, “given what you said the last time we spoke.”

Mick scoffed sitting back down and taking a long pull from his beer. “What I said? What about the things you said?”

“What I said?” Leonard echoed puzzled but unwilling to let it show. He made sure to keep his tone inquisitive. Narrowed his eyes as he considered the man before him.

Mick scowled shoving up from his seat once more and crowding close. “What are you doin’ here, Snart?” he growled. “Thought you didn’t want nothin’ to do with me anymore.”

He held his ground, lifted his chin a bit to meet Mick’s gaze unwaveringly. “In light of our last conversation—”

“You mean the one where you told me to get lost?”

“No,” he replied with a frown, slowly as he tried to put the pieces together. A lost cause because he was missing quite a few apparently.

Something indecipherable flickered over Mick’s face, quickly smothered along with all concern from his voice as he said, “You all right there, Snart?”

“Of course,” Leonard scoffed even as his mind churned the words over and over looking for a pattern, for answers, for clarity.

He couldn’t really tell the truth, now could he? Especially since he had no idea what the truth was. There were really only three options. One, Mick had lost his goddamn mind. Two, Leonard had lost _his_ mind. Or, three, something legitimately weird going on.

“Then leave me alone,” Mick said voice rumbling, and again Leonard let him go.

The words continued to haunt him. Echoing like his mother’s as he moved through his life. Coloring every action and thought and feeling.

_You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me._

*

He’d questioned Mick’s sanity quite a few times during their partnership. Work that closely with a man like Mick for as long as he had and it was par for the course. He’d questioned his own at times as well if he was honest. With his mother’s history he couldn’t be too careful.

Point being he was reasonably sure neither one of them had lost control of their faculties in the past few months, which left only option three as viable.

Problem being Leonard had no way of solving the puzzle without the rest of the pieces.

So he bided his time, mulled the words over in his mind. Again and again and again. And he moved forward.

Formed a couple crews. Stole a couple paintings. Robbed a couple banks. Tried to steal the Kahndaq Dynasty diamond. Then actually stole it with a little help from his new favorite tool.

He really only needed the cold gun like he’d said. But he took the heat gun as well. On a whim maybe. With deliberate intent possibly. Mick used to say he never did anything without a plan, and the truth was he didn’t. Not really. Doing things without a plan tended to elicit a visceral sense of apprehension that he preferred to avoid whenever possible.

It made his hands tremble and his breaths quicken. The uncertainty that came from acting without a plan was enough to make him count the seconds and structure each and every job down to the last miniscule detail. It made him a great thief. It also made him obsessive when it came to the rest of his life. He analyzed his decisions like each one was crucial to a job, even the ones that only dealt with his personal life. Maybe especially those ones.

The words proved pretty influential. Before Mick left him that message, before he sat across from Leonard in a bar and said those words—those _damned_ words—Leonard could have let him go. Maybe. Possibly.

But after?

_You’re the best guy I ever knew._

Never.

_You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me. You got that?_

He tracked Mick down again. Pushed away his apprehension at the matches in Mick’s hand. Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Mick struck a match and said, “Yeah, buddy, I’m in.”

*

Working with Mick again was odd. Not only because Leonard underestimated the impact of the fallout from their last job, but also because he had words echoing in his mind that Mick didn’t remember saying.

Or never said.

Or hadn’t yet said.

If he thought about it too long he’d end up with a headache. So he pushed it away, focused on the here and now, focused on the job, focused on the Flash.

And when Mick lost control again, when he got distracted by the flames, Leonard questioned his decision. Kept his gun between them while the words echoed in his head and he gave Mick an out he didn’t want Mick to take.

For a moment he thought Mick would accept the offer. Thought he’d walk away like Leonard had so many times before.

But he didn’t, and Leonard, against all reason, was relieved.

*

At forty-three Leonard finally manned up and did what he should have done years ago. For Lisa. For himself.

Better late than never, he supposed. He certainly wasn’t going to feel bad about icing his father no matter how long Barry stared at him with those goddamn puppy dog eyes.

“Last time I was in Iron Heights, I was visiting my dad,” the speedster shared glancing around like he was remembering it.

Leonard smirked. “Yeah? Me too.”

It’d been the last time he had seen his dad before he’d been abducted. He’d tried to sever their relationship entirely; it hadn’t worked out quite like he’d hoped but perhaps it was for the best. After all, if dear old dad had never put a bomb in Lisa’s head Leonard would have never plucked up the courage to put him down like a sick dog. The thought of Lisa and that damned bomb trigger sent a surge of unease to rippling through him, and Leonard forcibly pushed it away. Wouldn’t do to show weakness with the Flash watching his every move.

“And yet you killed him,” Barry said.

“He deserved it,” Leonard shot back without hesitation narrowing his eyes a bit when Barry shook his head with a small smile. “Is that funny to you?”

“No,” Barry said somberly. “What’s funny is I finally figured out your secret.”

“And what secret would that be?” Leonard asked because Barry couldn’t possibly be right.

“You’d do anything to protect your sister.”

And, yes, that was true. It also wasn’t much of a secret. Still.

“Well, I know your secret too,” Leonard reminded him. It didn’t cause the flicker of uncertainty he was hoping for. “Better hope I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“You won’t,” Barry said shrugging carelessly. “Today just proved what I’ve always known.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes more, fingers wrapping tightly around the phone in his hand.

“There’s good in you, Snart. And you don’t have to admit it to me, but there’s a part of you that knows you don’t have to let your past define you. A part of you that really wants to be more than just a criminal.”

It was odd. How much Barry’s words echoed the ones that lived in Leonard’s mind. The ones that haunted him in the early hours of the mornings and whenever he caught Mick just…looking at him. Odd how they produced such a flare of hurt somewhere deep in his chest that made him recoil away from the idea.

“So I should be a hero like you, Barry?” he asked cocking his head to the side a bit like he didn’t care even as his heart beat hard in his chest. “What exactly does that pay again?”

“It’s just a matter of time,” Barry said glancing around them. “Something you’ll have a lot of in here.”

_You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me. You got that?_

“Not as much as you think,” Leonard returned getting familiar ground back beneath him. He smirked, putting every ounce of contempt into it that he could manage. “Be seeing you.”

*

So time travel.

He wouldn’t have called that one on his own. But it was the last piece and it fit. Oh, did it fit.

_Anyway I, ah, I just wanted to make sure I said something important that wasn’t left unsaid._

The uncertainty, the look in his eyes, the way Mick, the one here now with Leonard in 2016, never referenced what he’d said. Because he hadn’t said it. Not yet, perhaps not ever if Leonard changed things.

_You’re the best guy I knew._

It was the past tense there that really pinged Leonard’s radar when he thought about it. Somewhere, or rather some _when_ , shit was going to hit the fan. In light of the new information the words sounded like a final conversation, a last goodbye. Leonard would be damned if he let that happen. He would have to keep his eye on things, keep an eye on Mick.

_This wasn’t a good idea._

Maybe Leonard should be running from the possibilities. Whisking himself and Mick off to some place, some _time_ , where they would be safe. But he knew, at least some part of him knew, what his choice would be the moment that time ship rippled into existence. Good idea or not, the prospects offered by the Waverider and Rip Hunter were tempting.

_You’re the best guy I ever knew. You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me. You got that?_

Mick wasn’t keen on going, had no desire to fly through time playing hero. Leonard wanted to follow the breadcrumbs, and, maybe, on some level the idea actually appealed to him.

They went.

*

“That’s about the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

Leonard curled his lip, biting back his automatic retort. He still felt a little raw and exposed in a way that put him on edge. Like an odd buzz living beneath his skin and sparking anytime someone got to close.

_What’s funny is I finally figured out your secret. You’d do anything to protect your sister._

Mick stood over him for a few moments, just long enough for Leonard’s chest to start drawing tight, before sinking down beside Leonard with a grunt and muttering under his breath about how he was too old for sitting on the floor in a space basement. Leonard ignored him and pulled his legs tighter against his chest.

“Englishman says time wants to happen,” Mick said after several silent minutes. “And your old man was an idiot anyway. If it wasn’t the emerald it woulda been something else.”

Leonard shifted, unsure if he wanted to drift closer to Mick or farther away. He wasn’t sure what he wanted at the moment. Seeing his dad again, even his younger dad that Leonard himself had barely been able to remember, threw him off his game. Unsettled him.

_Oh, darling, I’m sorry she saved you._

It still happened, sometimes, that Leonard felt like a steel band was trying to collapse his chest. Less often now than when he was younger, but still often enough that Mick knew to shut up and just let Leonard be quiet and motionless. Mick huffed, rearranged himself with his legs outstretched in front of him, and pulled out his lighter. It hissed a little as he thumbed the flame into existence joining Leonard in his silent vigil of the otherwise empty cargo room.

*

Time travel, it turned out, was a mess. An absolute disaster.

A Russian gulag, an unstable timeline. Mick drawing further and further away from him, and the harder Leonard tried to hold on to him the more he raged against Leonard’s grasp.

Leonard wanted to tell him. Wanted to tell Mick he _had_ to stay with Leonard because how else could they keep each other safe? Wanted to share the words in his head, ask Mick if he believed them yet, if he thought he could ever believe them, could ever say them to Leonard again and mean them.

It was the uncertainty that held him back, kept the words on the tip of his tongue, and any time Leonard tried to ask, tried to say them, he backed down. He lied. To himself. To Mick.

He told himself it was necessary, that he couldn’t tamper with the timeline, that it could be dangerous. A lie, if only to himself, because he could and had tampered with the timeline, his own even, in much bigger ways. But the potential benefits then had outweighed the risks. They didn’t this time even if only some small part of Leonard was willing to admit that.

"You son of a bitch."

_You're the best guy I ever knew._

"Just calm down," Leonard said which, of course, had just about the opposite effect.

"You lied to me!" Mick yelled surging forward and jerking back in surprise when he hit the barrier, faint blue light rippling out from points of contact. Leonard fought down a flinch, pulling in a deep breath to retain an aura of composure.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he remarked. "Remember the Del Ray Currency Exchange? The Black Hawk Armored Car job? If I hadn't lied to you on those scores, we'd both be in prison or dead. I'm the brains. You're the muscle. That's how it's always been," he said going for the proverbial throat.

Mick's face fell, the briefest flash of hurt quickly buried under a scowl. Both of them were aware of how untrue the words were, but it was a point of insecurity. One Leonard knew how to pick at and use to his advantage when he needed to. Mick had told him once, drunk and angry and full of hurt, that he was a manipulative bastard. Leonard hadn't disagreed. 

"And on occasion, I've had to call some audibles," he continued softening his voice just a little. "You have a habit of getting in your own way, Mick."

Mick grunted spinning on his heel to sit on the bench against the wall. "You're right. You've lied to me about jobs before, but then again, you lied to me about this being a job," he said pointing accusingly. "It's not about the score anymore for you. You'd rather save the world than be my partner. A real team player."

"'Cause that's what it's gonna take to defeat Savage," Leonard spit out control fraying a little at the edges.

"Then what? More money? More power? A life of leisure and sin?" Mick asked and the words were scathing. He knew none of that was true. They both did.

_There’s good in you, Snart. And you don’t have to admit it to me, but there’s a part of you that knows you don’t have to let your past define you. A part of you that really wants to be more than just a criminal._

Leonard blinked shifting his stance a little to buy himself time to think. Time to figure out something that would appeal to Mick to get him to stay on this ship. Stay with Leonard. "Don't you get it, Mick?" he said. "If we take out Savage, this immortal monster, can't you see what that gets us?"

"No, tell me."

Leonard swiped his hand over the console disengaging the barrier. A show of faith. Of trust. An olive branch. "We'd be the two baddest sons of bitches of all time," he said and even he knew it was weak. They'd long since passed the point of this being on this mission for selfish reasons.

_You may not think you're a hero, but you're a hero to me._

Mick narrowed his eyes rising slowly from the bench. "I don't want a ticker tape parade," he said and Leonard's heart sank. Mick paused less than a step away, pitching his voice in a low growl. "You know what I want from this world."

Leonard inclined his head. “Yes,” he said the words sour and heavy on his tongue as ice slipped through his veins, “to see it burn.”

“You lay a hand on me again, you'll burn too.”

 _If only_ , Leonard thought watching his partner walk away. He could ask Mick, but truthfully he was afraid of the answer.

*

In 1975 Leo had found a man he didn’t recognize downstairs when he went for a glass of water. A tall, quiet man who seemed oddly familiar. A man who’d knelt before Leo, eyes haunted and sad.

“Don’t ever let anyone hurt you. Ever. Not here,” he had said tapping one finger to his temple, “and especially not here,” he’d reached out ever so slowly to touch Leo’s chest. “No matter what you always have to look out for yourself, okay? You understand?”

Leo hadn’t understood. Not then. Not for a while

Five years later his father had come home and the words became a source of comfort. Something Leonard tried _so damn hard_ to follow.

_Don’t ever let anyone hurt you._

He couldn’t stop his dad.

That was something that had taken time for him to realize and accept. He couldn’t stop the physical hurts, but he’d learned eventually to protect his mind and protect his heart. To not let the blows impact deeper than his skin, to not expect anything more than disappointment and pain from other people, to rely on no one other than himself.

But then there was Lisa.

And, eventually, Mick.

_No matter what you always have to look out for yourself, okay?_

And, eventually, Leonard let them in too deep, let them gain too much of a sway, gave them power he’d sworn he’d never give anyone. He couldn’t bring himself to regret the fact. Lisa and Mick were his family, had been his family for years. He trusted Lisa implicitly and most days he could bring himself to trust Mick too. But, like family was wont to do, they hurt him and he hurt them right back. Turned out you couldn’t let people in like that without them doing a number on your heart and soul even if they never really tried.

_Don’t ever let anyone hurt you._

Fitting, then, that the advice ended up coming from him in the first place. He’d always had trouble doing what he knew would be good for himself. One had only to look at his past choices to figure that out.

*

“I told you that would be the last time you hit me.”

Leonard couldn’t figure out how they got here. To these woods, to this confrontation. It didn’t make sense, he couldn’t fit it into the working timeline he kept in his mind. Couldn’t figure out how everything went so wrong so quickly. The rest of the crew thought he was out here to murder his partner, but he couldn’t because Mick wasn’t supposed to die. Not here. Not like this.

“You were right,” he said forcing the words from his mouth because Mick didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Maybe wouldn’t ever know.

“That the plan?” Mick asked, snarling out the words as he picked himself up from the ground, spreading his arms to encompass the trees around them. “Take me out in the middle of nowhere, where no one can find the body?”

“I wish there were some other way, Mick,” Leonard said and there was, there had to be, “but you're dangerous. A liability to the team.”

“Team?” Mick echoed incredulously. “You and I were a team! What happened to you?”

“People change,” Leonard said and for once it wasn’t a lie. But the real question was whether it had happened on this ship or before, in some club, years ago when the words were first insinuated into his mind.

“You think you're some kind of hero,” Mick sneered and it hurt to hear the word twisted, said so angrily, so at odds with the one in Leonard’s mind.

_You’re the best guy I ever knew. You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me. You got that?_

“But deep down you're still the same punk kid I saved in juvie. You haven't got the guts. You want to kill me? Kill me. Only one of us is walking out of here alive.”

Leonard swallowed, charged his gun. “You're right,” he said, but not here, not now, not yet.

He fired a bit to the right, rushing forward as Mick was distracted by the near miss.

“I knew you lacked the guts,” he said turning back right as Leonard swung the cold gun towards his head. Mick dropped heavily to the ground, crumpling easily as Leonard fought down the sense of wrongness growing in his chest.

“I am sorry, Mick,” he said unsure exactly what he was apologizing for this time. He knelt by Mick’s side one hand reaching out but drawing back before he could touch. “You are right,” he said again softly, “but not today.”

*

“Well, look who's up and around,” Leonard observed as Jax entered the bridge. He looked a little worse for wear but overall seemed all right. Certainly better than the twisted hawk creature that had tried to kill Leonard earlier. Leonard flicked an assessing gaze over him before turning his attention back to the trees sprawled outside the Waverider. It was quiet, the sort of peace Leonard had once enjoyed but recently left him with far too much time to ruminate on his thoughts.

“Mm, yeah.” Jax rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as he rounded the chairs to approach Leonard at the window. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

Leonard glanced at him and raised a single brow in question, cocking his head slightly to the side. A silent prompt.

“Grey told me about what happened back at the asylum,” Jax explained looking a little shamefaced. “You had the chance to kill me, and you didn't. After last night, I know enough about being a monster to know that you're not one.”

_If you can just ice your best friend like that, I hate to think what you could do to us._

“Stop,” Leonard drawled resisting the urge to draw even deeper into himself and not quite succeeding as he shifted to pull his arms closer to his chest. “I'm getting misty-eyed.”

“I just want you to know about what happened with Rory? I get it,” Jax said.

Leonard looked away, biting back the retort that Jax didn’t. He couldn’t possibly. Mick and Leonard had been partners for longer than Jax had been _alive_. That sort of partnership, that sort of devotion, it left a mark. Deserved more care than Leonard had given it. Mick deserved more than he’d given, not that anyone else on this ship would likely agree with him. The thought left him feeling empty. Lonely in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Like he was all alone even surrounded by people because none of them were capable of looking at him and seeing beyond the mask he showed the world. Few people were and Leonard quite preferred it that way, but he’d long gotten used to Mick’s ability to read him almost better than he could read himself.

“You were protecting us,” Jax continued oblivious to the agony his words left in their wake. “And that doesn't make you a murderer. It makes you a part of this team.”

 _No, it really doesn’t,_ Leonard thought looking back to the trees. _It makes me a bad partner._

*

Time travel was and would always be an abhorrent catastrophe.

Leonard yanked against the cuffs keeping him tethered to the railing part of him still trying and failing to understand the words coming from the man in front of him. His partner, Mick, the man he’d left behind somewhere that was supposed to be safe.

“After all, I am supposed to be the dumb one.”

“How?” Leonard forced out barely feeling like he could breathe. The word was weak, broken, but Leonard was too shaken to care. He yanked against his restraints finding the strength to demand, “I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on here!”

“You deserve nothing,” Mick, Chronos, said utterly indifferent.

Leonard swallowed. “Says the man who sold us out to the pirates,” he snapped, fighting to keep his breathing steady even as his pulse skyrocketed and falling back on old defenses. “When I dropped you off in that forest, I meant to kill you. That _was_ the plan.”

“You should've stuck with the plan,” Mick said not rising to the bait, “and done me a favor.”

“I may not have trusted you on the ship with the team,” Leonard said giving up all pretenses and yanking again so hard the chains rattled and his wrists smarted painfully. It helped ground him just a bit. “But I always, _always_ was coming back for you!”

Mick, _Chronos_ , hummed. “Seems like one of us lost track of time,” he said drawing out the words slightly.

Leonard’s breaths stuttered. “Well, how long did you—”

“By the time they found me, I'd nearly lost my mind,” Mick, Chronos, snarled voice lowering and anger bleeding through in every word. “I was so weak, I was strangling rats to survive.”

Leonard swallowed, shifting imperceptibly away and clenching his fists against the fine tremors starting to run through his hands. “When who found you?” he asked.

Chronos hummed again, something like glee flashing in his eyes. “The Time Masters,” he said standing and moving back to the console. Leonard let out a sigh of relief closing his eyes for a quick second to compose himself before turning his attention back to his cuffs and trying to see anyway to free himself. “They took me to a place called the Vanishing Point. Time doesn't exist there the way it does on Earth. I've spent lifetimes being restored by them, training by them, fighting by them being reborn.”

“And when exactly did your new friends give you the, uh, lobotomy?” Leonard asked because this wasn’t Mick, but it didn’t make sense because it had to be Mick. Somewhere, deep down, Mick _had_ to be there. Had to exist so he could go back in time, to that club, to Leonard. Leonard just had to find him.

“You think I was hunting you and your friends because the Time Masters made me?” Chronos whispered turning to approach Leonard once more and his eyes were unrecognizable, piercing and vicious. “They barely had to ask.”

*

Sara found him in the cargo hold. Alone and sat on the floor throwing a ball against the wall with his regrown hand like it could really distract him from his thoughts. She strode in the room as if she owned it, no hesitation in her steps. Leonard glanced up at her, summoning forward enough energy to give a damn and say, “No luck finding our homicidal captain?”

“Gideon's still searching,” Sara replied lowering herself gracefully to the floor across from him and dusting off her hands, “but I have a feeling Rip's not gonna be found if he doesn't want to be.”

Leonard huffed because she was right. “So what are you doing down here?” he asked even though he was relatively sure he knew the answer. He flexed his hand around the ball sparing one second to wish that it was searing hot or perhaps covered in thorns. Anything that would _feel_ more than smooth silicone.

“Don't you think you at least owe him a conversation?”

Bingo. No question about whom she was referring either; it certainly wasn’t their so-called captain. Sometimes he wished he weren’t so damn perceptive. It’d make playing dumb a lot easier. He squeezed the ball again imagining that inside were a thousand needles digging into his palm.

“We had our conversation while he was Chronos,” Leonard said leaning his head back against the wall, “and he made his feelings about me _very_ clear.”

_I can kill Lisa in front of you, go back in time, kill her in front of you again and again and again._

“And what about your feelings?”

Leonard flicked his gaze to hers, tilted his head to the side, and deflected. “About you?”

Sara didn’t miss a beat. “About Mick.”

_You think you’re some kind of hero?_

“I don't have any feelings about Mick,” he said ignoring the heavy weight of the words in his chest. The best lies were couched in truth, and the worst ignored its existence.

Sara snorted seeing right through his bullshit without any effort. “Didn't seem that way when we were dying in the engine room of hypothermia,” she said shifting to rest her arms on her knees and eyeing Leonard with a far too knowing gaze.

“Look, if you want to ease your guilty conscience, that's your business,” he snapped, bristling and pulling back, piling on the lies to establish at least the facsimile of distance between them, “but he's still the same son of a bitch he was when you all wanted me to put him down.”

_I'm willing to bet that some little piece of the old you is in that armor somewhere._

_You're wrong._

Sara didn’t flinch at the bitterness in his tone, barely raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't the one who mentioned marooning Rory. You did. It's obviously still weighing on your conscience,” she said pushing herself to her feet and striding past him. “So stop being an ass and go deal with it.”

Leonard pulled in a careful breath. Threw the ball against the wall. It bounced off and he didn’t move to catch it, let it roll away as he drew in another slow breath of air.

_Oh, darling, I’m sorry she saved you._

*

“People seem to think we should have a heart-to-heart.”

Mick looked up at him, hands clasped loosely between his knees. His gaze was hard, assessing in a way Leonard had never seen him before. “We don't have hearts,” he said leaning forward slightly. “Where does that leave us?”

Leonard swallowed. He didn’t know where everything had gone wrong. When he left Mick in those woods, when he pulled Mick from 2046, when they first stepped foot on this godforsaken ship, the possibilities were nearly limitless. His mother’s words echoed in his mind and for just a moment Leonard let himself think of how much easier it would have been if that nurse hadn’t saved him. But she had and they were here now and the only way was forward.

“I've got a dozen reasons for killing you,” he drawled making sure to keep his usual inflection up to cover the waver he felt in his chest. “You've got a dozen and one for killing me, so…”

“All the talk in the world is not gonna change a thing,” Mick said and the ice slipping through Leonard’s veins froze even more.

“Exactly. Here's my proposal,” he continued, tone even and hard. “I open this cell, we let our fists do the talking.”

Mick was surprised by the offer and it showed plainly on his face as he rose up from his seat and took several measured steps towards the door. “When I kill you—”

“You take the jump ship, make your escape, live out the rest of your life anywhere you like,” Leonard said even as the thought filled him with an inexplicable sense of sorrow.

Mick just hummed. “And if you kill me,” he said in a tone that implied he thought it nearly impossible, “well, it's better than being locked up in this place like some kind of circus freak.”

“I take that as a yes,” Leonard said softly and Mick leaned forward with a wicked grin and open arms.

“Sound the bell.”

*

_You came into this world quiet and peaceful. Sometimes I think you knew._

“We had a deal, Mick,” Leonard said face and ribs throbbing. He pulled in a sharp breath closing his eyes against the words in his head. “Kill me and you walk. It's what you wanted, isn't it?” he asked. He blinked, kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling of the room and not on Mick. He couldn’t look at Mick. “To get off the team?”

_Knew what?_

He didn’t add the rest. Didn’t say the person Mick was really trying to get away from was him. Didn’t ask why Mick said the things he had, would, to Leonard if he was only going to leave Leonard behind. Abandon him for a fur coat and a chalice in a future bound for destruction. Leave him behind on a ship lost in time in favor of pirates for a ride home. Home was supposed to be with each other.

_How hard life would be. How much suffering there is here. I think you tried to leave when you could, and I am so sorry._

“I don't know what I want anymore,” Mick said sounding as defeated as Leonard felt. Like both of them were at the end of their rope, strung out and drained of everything they had to give. “Truth is, it doesn't matter.”

_What for?_

“What are you talking about?” Leonard asked closing his eyes again because he was tired. So, so tired.

“Whether I stay or leave, I'm dead.” Mick said. “We're all dead.”

_Oh, darling, I’m sorry she saved you._

There was maybe a small part of him that broke as he thought, _So am I._

*

“Why haven’t you gone to medbay?” Mick asked, words rough and maybe a bit angry. “Metal Mouth regrew your hand, didn’t she? Think she could handle a few bruises.”

Leonard shifted, lifted one shoulder in a partial shrug and didn’t reply otherwise. He didn’t have a good answer anyway. If pressed he’d come up with a lie, say…something. Nothing that approached the truth, not that even he knew what that was exactly. He shifted again, ribs flaring a bit in pain and surreptitiously pressed a finger against one of his black eyes. There was something about the pain, even dull and throbbing, that helped ease the ache couched deep in his chest. Helped him feel centered and grounded.

There was part of him that recognized the fact that he hadn’t relied on such a coping mechanism in nearly two decades, but it seemed that he was falling back on old patterns. He couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Snart,” Mick said snapping his fingers in front of Leonard’s face. He blinked, jerking back in surprise, and Mick frowned. “Any of those hunters get a hit in?” he asked. “Or is this all from…”

 _From you,_ Leonard thought but the words didn’t make it out of his mouth.

Mick sighed reaching out to gently grasp Leonard’s arm; that more than anything set him on edge and prompted a response. “Come on,” Mick said. “Let’s get you to medbay.”

“No.”

Mick halted, questioning gaze landing on Leonard’s face. “No?”

“No,” Leonard repeated shrugging out of Mick’s hold. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to take care of yourself,” Mick said like he thought Leonard was being particularly obtuse. “As usual.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a moron.”

Leonard huffed then winced as his ribs flared again. “You’ve been ignoring me since we had our little _talk_. Why the change now?”

“Maybe I’m tired of seein’ you lookin’ like a kicked puppy.”

Leonard rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Tired of seein’ you lookin’ like a beat ally cat ready to claw at anyone that gets too close.”

“Yeah,” Leonard said unable to purge the bitterness completely from his tone. “Well, who’s fault is that?”

*

“I'm not going to apologize.”

Leonard jolted, taken by surprise that someone had managed to sneak up on him. He was standing in the doorway of a random room watching his infant self sleep in a wooden cradle rocker that looked like something out of _Little House on the Prairie_. Mick stood a few feet away down the hallway expression settled somewhere between grim and amused.

“I think we both know I don’t deserve one,” Leonard said turning his gaze back to the child swaddled in blankets. Mick took several steps closer, footsteps falling heavy on the wood beneath their feet. The baby scrunched up its little face, squirming fitfully.

Mick halted by his shoulder, humming as he too took in the infant quickly heading towards outright distress for some reason. “So you never were an easy sleeper,” Mick observed.

Leonard didn’t reply torn by an odd sense filling his chest. He wondered when they’d pulled the infant from the timeline, specifics rather than vague details. He hadn’t participated in his own abduction, but it mustn’t have been much before he would have gone home from the hospital anyway. There were faint marks on the infant’s arms. A scab on his head from where the nurses had kept an IV for a couple weeks. But he looked healthy.

_Sometimes I think you knew._

This little creature had been dead only a few weeks ago, and yet here Leonard stood some forty years later. He wondered if Shekia had noticed he was gone yet, wondered how she’d feel once it was realized.

Baby-him was all out wailing now. Little arms fighting against the blanket and legs kicking. Mick glanced at him, but Leonard didn’t move. Kept his arms crossed over his chest like a shield and tried to breathe even though, for some reason, it seemed more difficult than usual. Mick stared for a few seconds more then eased into the room, crouching next to the cradle and gently rocking it while he shushed the baby within.

There was a surreal moment where Leonard couldn’t quite wrap his mind around Mick rocking his infant-self back to sleep, murmuring quiet words that were inaudible from the doorway. Irrationally he wondered if they were the same words Mick had whispered to him over the years since they’d met, felt a surge of jealousy because he was sure they were. He spun away from the doorway intending to leave entirely but not making it far. He stopped at the end of the hall by the stairs, wrapping his fingers around the banister and using it to help ground him in the here and now.

This time when Mick approached some odd minutes later Leonard heard his footsteps, counted them as he approached only coming to a stop far too close. Leonard breathed out slowly as he turned around unsurprised to find Mick regarding him silently.

_I just wanted to make sure I said something important that wasn’t left unsaid._

“You’re not going to apologize,” he said pitching his words low and letting every bit of his signature drawl fall away. “But I am. Sorry.”

Only the slight quirk of Mick’s eyebrow betrayed his surprise at Leonard’s words. The railing was solid behind him, digging hard into his back as Leonard pressed against it. He closed his eyes, reaching around to wrap his hands around the banister again, dragging his nails along the wood worn smooth from years of use.

“I know that doesn’t fix anything. Doesn’t…make up for anything I did. But I am sorry, Mick.”

A sudden touch to his cheek had him flinching, fingers clenching around the railing in his grip. He opened his eyes slowly, half afraid of what he’d see. But there was no resentment, no judgment, just Mick. Just Mick, who let his fingers dance along Leonard’s cheekbone, tracing the nearly imperceptible edges of a bruise in the final stages of healing before falling away.

The loss of contact burned more than it should, but Leonard kept his hands on the railing as Mick nodded.

“Okay,” he said tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. He didn’t say anything more, just turned and descended the stairs. Leonard bowed his head and wondered if wood this smooth could give him splinters.

*

“Why are all the snacks in the future sugar-free?”

Mick shook the bag in his hand as if it had personally offended him, brushing crumbs off his chest from where they’d fallen when he’d spit the, admittedly terrible, food out.

“So much for progress,” Leonard remarked twisting the ring he’d taken to wearing again on his finger. There was an odd feeling in his chest that made the words, spoken in good humor, taste sour in his mouth. It’d taken him awhile to place it, and he’d kept relatively silent on the matter until now. “You remember Alexa?”

“Yeah,” Mick said. “From the security deposit job. What about it?”

Leonard gave the ring a particularly hard twist calming a bit as the skin pinched beneath it. “Just had a feeling about that one,” he said, “a sixth sense things would end badly.”

“And they would have, if you hadn't have pulled us out of there,” Mick said tearing a new bag open and shoving a handful of whatever it was in his mouth like this one had any chance of tasting even a little better than the last. “So what?”

_You’re the best guy I ever knew._

Nearly four years since Mick had uttered those words to him in the club. Nearly four years of puzzle solving to figure out what it meant, what was in store for them. Up until now he’d had vague ideas, assumptions really, with no real basis for truth. The urgency buzzing beneath his skin now though was burning through him like a warning sign. A sense that they were hurtling towards certain failure, something terrible and irrevocable.

For the first time Leonard wanted to flee, to seize Mick and squirrel them away somewhere far away, somewhere safe. Leonard stopped twisting the ring glancing up at Mick.

“I'm getting the same feeling now.”

*

“I'm asking for a little faith, gentlemen.”

“Sorry,” Leonard snapped even though he was anything but, “fresh out.” The buzzing under his skin had reached an alarming level. An urge to bolt, to remove himself and Mick entirely from whatever situation he was in. An instinct that had served him well enough in his life. He knew the dangers of ignoring it by now.

“I take it you and Mr. Snart are of the same mind?” Rip asked directing his question to Mick.

Mick’s instant and unequivocal, “Yes,” felt like absolution.

“And what of you, Miss Lance?”

Sara didn’t hesitate to go for the harsh truth. She never did. “You're the one who said you'd sell us out for your family.”

“Well, if that's how you all feel, none of you are obliged to continue on this voyage with me,” Rip said visibly gathering himself. “As I told Martin, the jump ship can make a one-time voyage back to 2016.”

“You saying it's ours?” Mick asked.

Rip rested his palm on the table, gesturing widely with his other hand. “I'm saying that this mission has always been a voluntary enterprise.”

“And the mission was to kill Savage,” Leonard pointed out turning to Mick who immediately picked up his train of thought.

“Which doesn't seem to be on the table anymore.”

“Very well,” Rip said. “Leave, if that's what you—”

Leonard seized the opening, fingers tingling with the need to escape. “It's been a blast, Rip,” he said turning away and glancing over his shoulder for a parting shot. “Good luck getting to the Vanishing Point.”

Mick was only a few steps behind him with his own. “Tell your pals Chronos says, ‘Kiss my ass.’”

*

“Let's get out of here.”

“Wait, what about the team?” Sara asked sounding surprised.

“There's nothing more we can do for them,” Leonard said turning to stride away. That awful itch was under his skin again tenfold; buzzing so loud he nearly couldn’t think.

Sara scoffed. “You're just gonna leave Mick?” she said and it twisted like a knife in Leonard’s chest. Mick was gone again, this time through no fault of Leonard’s. Back in the clutches of the Time Masters it was almost kinder if Leonard hoped he was already dead.

“If the Time Masters are half as twisted as Mick said, there's an excellent chance Mick is no longer Mick,” he snapped burying the awful feeling of loss the words fostered deep. He was operating in flight mode; he knew that. It was what made him a survivor, and he wasn’t going to stop now. “Now why aren't we flying yet?”

“Because I'm not going anywhere,” Sara protested. “And even if we wanted to, we're in a hangar surrounded by an entire armada of timeships.”

Leonard flung his arms out. “It's the _Waverider_ ,” he said stressing the word, raising his voice in an attempt to drown out the words clamoring in his mind. “We've got guns. We can blast our way out.”

“This isn't _Bonnie and Clyde_ ,” Sara retorted. “And I'm not going anywhere without the rest of the team.”

Leonard bit back a snarl, yanking the cold gun from his holster and leveling it at her. “Maybe I didn't make myself clear.”

“Don't do that,” Sara said not the least bit intimidated. “Don't act like you're that same cold-hearted bastard that I first met. I remember Russia. And you were the one who told me not to kill Stein.”

“Yeah, because you seem to have a problem with being a killer,” Leonard sneered tightening his grip on the cold gun to hide the tremors running through his hands. It was hard to do when his fingers felt vaguely numb. “I, however, don't.”

Sara’s expression settled into something stubborn. “Prove it,” she said. “Shoot me.”

Leonard flexed his fingers, pulled in a shallow breath. The sudden ringing of a phone caught them both off guard. Leonard looked over at it and Sara spared barely a glance for the gun still pointed her way before she moved to answer it. “Hello?”

Leonard took a cautious step forward and lowered the cold gun.

“Gideon, you're alive,” Sara said shooting a relieved glance his way. Her brow creased for a brief moment before she shook her head. “We can share war stories later. Where's the rest of the team?”

He drifted closer, the terrible sense of hope joining the unease that lived inside of him. Sara’s expression smoothed further and Leonard let out a small sigh of relief himself even though they were far from safe. Then Sara straightened with a note of alarm in her voice.

“What do you mean _for the moment_?”

*

“Stop starin’ at me,” Mick grumbled. “It’s makin’ my ears itch.”

Leonard huffed but ignored the request playing with his pinky-ring. The briefly lived fear that he’d lost Mick to Chronos again still hadn’t fully dissipated even though they were all, for the moment, safe upon the ship. And the unease that lived in his chest hadn’t abated, still roiled just beneath the surface, oppressive enough that Leonard felt vaguely ill. Almost like he was consistently short of breath no matter how deeply he breathed. He dropped his gaze, finally, to the ring on his finger giving it a vicious twist and biting his lip when it dug into his flesh.

“Leonard.” A hand caught his, gently dislodging the hold he had on the ring before raising his hand up to inspect the irritated skin. “Alexa?”

Leonard sucked in a shallow breath. “Yeah,” he said unable to summon any more of a response than that. “It’s…” He trailed off, twirling his free hand towards his chest in a poor substitution for words.

Mick nodded like he understood even though Leonard didn’t quite understand himself turning Leonard’s hand over and pressing his thumb against Leonard’s pulse. His grip around Leonard’s wrist was loose, but the pressure of his thumb was enough to elicit a dull sense of discomfort.

“How’d you do it?” he asked after a few minutes of Mick’s steady pressure against his arm. Mick hummed, raising one eyebrow in question. “Resist their brainwashing?” Leonard clarified. “You said last time it was vengeance. What was it this time?”

Mick huffed out something that may have approximated a laugh as he shook his head muttering, “You and Haircut both, I swear.” When he glanced up again Leonard met his gaze steadily.

“You,” Mick answered finally with a sigh. “And the rest of the team. But mostly you.”

_You’re the best guy I ever knew._

“How much you hate me, you mean?” Leonard said only partially teasing. His heart rate kicked up and he wondered if Mick noticed. Was half tempted to pull his wrist from Mick’s hold before he had the chance but instead remained absolutely still.

“No,” Mick rumbled. “Thought about how screwed you’d be without me. Never could trust you on your own for long.” He brushed his thumb over Leonard’s wrist, tracing the near invisible line where for a short while Leonard had lost his hand. Gideon assured him it’d fade eventually but for now it lingered as a stark reminder to anyone who knew to look for it.

“You know that goes both ways,” Leonard said, drawing the words out in a lilting drawl that caused the corners of Mick’s lips to twitch upwards.

“Never claimed otherwise, boss.”

_What I'm saying is they've been engineering our lives to move in very specific directions and we are playing out that script even now._

"I don't like the idea that the Time Masters have been playing me like a puppet all my life," Leonard said softly almost like a confession. Mick inclined his head, fingers once more encircling Leonard's wrist.

"You always were a control freak," he commented.

Leonard scoffed, worrying at his lower lip as he ducked his head. "But what really bothers me is what Rip said about the oculus not working in the Vanishing Point."

"You think he's wrong?"

"No. I think he's right."

"And?" Mick met his gaze briefly before Leonard looked away.

_Deep down you're still the same punk kid I saved in juvie. You haven't got the guts._

"And I almost left you there," Leonard said skin crawling with the wrongness of the idea. Where was that feeling earlier when Leonard thought he'd lost Mick again, this time for good? "You and the team. I was given the freedom to make my own choice for the first time ever apparently, and I chose to run."

Mick was quiet for a long moment. Long enough for the air in the room to charge with tension while Leonard tried to breathe. "You've chosen to run a lot," Mick said eventually and though the words cut deep they weren't false. Leonard tried to draw away, to retreat, but Mick caught his arm, firmly securing his fingers around Leonard's wrist. "You always run. But you always come back. That's enough." 

"What if..." Leonard trailed off then shook his head barreling forward with the question because there was a part of him that needed to hear Mick's answer. "What if all of this, you and me, it's just all them?" 

"Then they made a hell of a mistake," Mick replied without hesitation meeting Leonard's gaze with fire in his eyes as his grip tightened to the point of painful. "Because they put together two of the baddest sons of a bitches, and they're gonna regret that one day soon."

Leonard let out a sharp laugh, his own words thrown back at him. Mick echoed him drifting that much closer with a flare of genuine amusement in his eyes. Leonard swallowed, all his attention zeroing in on the feeling of Mick's fingers against his skin as the terrible knot in his chest loosened just a little. 

"Len," Mick started, drawing his brows together.  

Leonard twisted his arm in Mick’s hold, wrapping his fingers around Mick’s forearm and digging hard enough to leave bruises. “It’s you and me, Mick. Against the world.”

It was as much a question as it was a statement. 

Mick grinned. “Against the universe.”

*

“Mick!”

Mick turned, barely sparing him a glance. So ready to sacrifice himself, so ready to go out in an explosion of fire. “Get out of here,” he said gruffly.

Leonard fired at one man who was getting too close then ducked beside his partner. That wasn’t happening, not on his watch. “Not without you, Mick!”

“Prettyboy said I gotta hold this stick for the ship to blow, so I’m holding the stick,” Mick replied like it wasn’t the craziest idea in the universe. “Now leave!”

And that, Leonard realized, was the final piece. He pulled his goggles down, ran his gaze over the oculus noting the position of Mick’s hand and the building energy roiling inside. This was it. This was the end of the line. This was when everything finally and completely made sense.

“My old friend,” he said decision made, second verse same as the first, “please forgive me.”

Mick glanced at him, eyes questioning yet trusting. “For what?”

Leonard struck him with the butt of the cold gun stepping forward as he fell to replace his grip on the oculus. He set the cold gun by Mick; he had no need for it now. After a split second of hesitation he slipped his ring from his pocket to Mick’s before rising fully to his feet as Sara approached.

“Get him out of here,” he ordered jerking his head over his shoulder at Mick and readjusting his grip on the oculus to something more secure.

“No,” Sara said immediately shaking his head.

Leonard’s stomach twisted. “Just do it.”

Sara hesitated, emotions playing clearly across her countenance. He could see the decision made before she even moved, the acceptance of his plan, his choice. She stepped forward, one hand grasping his arm as she rose up on her tiptoes. When her lips met his something in him quieted. An answer to a question perhaps. Or possibly as last show of comfort. Leonard accepted both gratefully.

In another time or another place, maybe they could have been something. Maybe a time when Leonard didn’t have the words in his head. A time when the words maybe didn’t matter so much. But here, now, they’d forever remain an almost.

Sara pulled back and the look in her eyes said more than any words ever could. He wondered if she knew. He remained silent as she carried Mick to safety, waited for the awful sense in his chest to fade and breathing out a sigh of relief when it did. Whatever happened now, at least Mick was safe.

_You’re the best guy I ever knew. You may not think you’re a hero._

Leonard flexed his hand in the oculus, took a steadying breath.

“No! Shut it down!”

_Oh, darling, I’m sorry she saved you._

Leonard stared at him, breathed again, and didn’t move. He’d look death in the face and he would not flinch. The oculus grew hot, an energy building beyond capacity in its chamber.

“Shut! It! Down!”

 _I’m not,_ he thought, _I’m not sorry_.

His hand felt like it was on fire, the oculus screaming as it overloaded, but Leonard kept his hand in place. Took solace in the expression of shock and horror on the Time Master’s face before him.

_What’s it like? Dying?_

_You’d expect it to be terrifying, just panic and fear._

He laughed at fear and was not dismayed; he would not turn back from the sword. He'd had forty years of stolen time already. Time to give back. 

_What’d you feel?_

_I guess lonely, yeah._

“There are no strings on me,” he snarled and then he waited. Silent and patient.

The fire spread. Engulfing him in blue flames and Leonard welcomed it like an old friend, the words resounding in his mind. Eyes closed he focused on the words and remembered. The good, the bad, everything in-between.

_You’re a hero to me. You got that?_

As the world burned he left this life the same way he entered—quiet, defiant, and utterly insignificant to all but a few.

_Yeah, I got it._

_*_

At a strip club in 2013 Mick Rory stepped into a bar and said to him, "You may not think you’re a hero, but you’re a hero to me. You got that?"

With a skeptical look like he didn't quite believe the words he replied, "Yeah, I got it." 


End file.
